


Overdue

by astudyinwhimsy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, growing relationship, implied england/france, kinda bittersweet, lots of lonely for just two people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinwhimsy/pseuds/astudyinwhimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, Gott, Mattie, at least look someone in the eye when you tell them you're a ghost. Make a good impression!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind Locked Doors

To say the library's exterior lacked charm was an understatement.

With peeling paint, poorly concealed graffiti decorating the plain walls and only a rickety old sign advertising its name ( _From Cover to Cover_ , officially, but time had stolen the _m_ and _r_ ), the place could hardly be considered appealing. The deserted parking lot to the left and overgrown field to the right, both littered with cigarette butts, did not contribute anything positive to the scene.

But, as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures, and "desperate" was certainly a term befitting Gilbert at the moment (not that he'd ever admit it). His brother was obviously too lazy to go out and get his stupid book himself, and Gilbert's serious lack of a To Do list meant that he was sent on the errand. Upon stumbling across the decrepit old bookstore, Gilbert had sincere hope that it would have the book he needed and no further trips to larger, busier libraries would be necessary ( _Damn_ Ludwig for not letting him order online!).

So, shoving the smudged door open, he stepped in with a grin and eyed the place.

The building was small, but in a cozy rather than suffocating way. Tall bookshelves nearly grazed the ceiling lined the walls, while two shorter ones stood in the middle, creating three rows altogether. All were filled to bursting with books upon books upon books, most in need of rebinding or perhaps full reprint. A tiny counter squatted directly to the left, housing a dusty pile of old newspapers, magazines, and a few paperbacks missing their covers.

Altogether, the place looked like it hadn't been touched since the Teutonic Knights were formed.

Gilbert was fine with that.

As long as the fucking book was here.

Hoping he wouldn't have to do too much digging, Gilbert glanced toward the counter. There was no one visible behind it, but the soft rustling of paper could be heard from the vicinity of the floor, so he leaned over the edge to peer at whoever the store manager must be.

The thin, short young man didn't notice him in the slightest, too absorbed in a heavily-dogeared edition of...some Russian book. Spying an excellent opportunity, Gilbert smirked and took a deep breath.

"ANYONE HOOOOMME?!"

The man let out a shriek, shooting up from the floor and nearly tripping over a pair of too-long legs in the process. One hand slammed the poor book on the counter for safekeeping while the other remained pressed against his chest, trying to calm his erratic breathing.

"Oh, I am so sorry! I didn't notice you come in, and...You, ah, you startled me," he panted, nervously wringing his hands.

Gilbert grinned.

"Good, so a guy can get some help around here."

"Right, uh..." The clerk smiled nervously and set his book somewhere behind the counter more gently. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

To business.

"Yeah, I need a book on Italian cooking. Anything pasta related, actually. Got anything like that?"

"Oh, well, yes, we do. Here, let me just show you..." The young man (his name tag read _Toris_ but it was dangling from his shirtfront after the incident and therefore too much bother to read) wiggled his way out from behind the counter and walked quickly to one of the wall shelves in the corner. "Here is the nonfiction area - you'll find self help books on the left and cookbooks on the bottom shelf. Just let me know if you have any questions, okay?"

Already wincing at the painfully large collection of cookbooks, Gilbert merely grunted in response and reluctantly pulled out the first book in sight, creatively titled _Little Italy_.

 

It was dark outside when he looked up again.

This was clearly not Gilbert's fault. He didn't even like reading all that much, aside from Prussian history and the occasional magazine. But after looking through the first few cookbooks, it became obvious that they weren't in alphabetical order, _as any shitty excuse for a library should be_ , and he just couldn't leave it like that. It wasn't as if that nervous clerk cared anyway - he would be thankful of Gilbert's awesome decision to reorganize the books.

...Where was said nervous clerk?

Shoving the final book into place, Gilbert jumped to his feet, stretching to get the kinks out, and stalked back to the counter to find the elusive man. No such luck. Thinking back, he vaguely remembered hearing the door to the shop opening and shutting, with the keys rattling and someone muttering about easily irritated girlfriends and intimidating landlords, but he obviously hadn't been paying attention at the time.

Neither, apparently, had the clerk.

"Fucking hell!" Gilbert swore, shaking the (locked from the outside, naturally) door in frustration and eventually resorting to kicking it.

 _Damn_ being related to Ludwig!

The situation wasn't that bad, really. He'd been in worse. There was that time in high school when he spent the night in a science classroom on a dare - luckily, there had been Bunsen burners and third period's quizzes to entertain him for a long while. Then there was that time where he, Francis, and Toni had been locked in a closet together by a seething Arthur swearing revenge on the Frenchman. Again, nearly endless entertainment - even after Toni fell asleep and Francis tried to coerce him into planning seductive retaliation against Arthur.

And that time he locked himself in the garage with the outdoor freezer dedicated to their entire beer supply? He didn't exactly remember what he had done then, but he was sure it was entertaining.

But this? A library? He was not going to read for the next twelve hours! He didn't even have his phone with him ( _"You'll get distracted," his brother growled, pushing him out the door._ )

Okay. Fine. He would just break out. Luddy got him in here, Luddy's credit card could get him out.

Immediately putting his foolproof plan into action, he searched for the heaviest, most morbidly obese book he could find. He didn't have to look much farther than a large print, fully illustrated version of _Les Miserables_ (Oh, Francis would _strangle_ him if he knew).

Raising the book over his head with more difficulty than he was willing to admit, he braced himself with one foot, leaning back just enough for some extra momentum, and-

"Please don't do that."

With an unmanly shriek of surprise, Gilbert did as he was told and dropped the book.

Right on his big toe.

" _Ficken, was zur Hölle war das? Und warum hast du mich einsperren in, du schwein? Scheiße, das tut weh this_!" *

Clutching his injured toe, Gilbert hopped on one foot and turned to glare (and possibly smack) the offending clerk. Unfortunately, it was not the clerk behind him, and he was robbed of his justified beating. Instead, the young man standing calmly behind him had wavy blonde hair that just brushed his chin, and small, round glasses. His clothes were baggy and worn, hanging loosely on a thin frame. Gilbert thought he looked altogether too pleased with himself for startling him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat, standing up straight on both feet, even though it sent another jolt of pain through his foot. "I thought I was the only one locked in here."

The stranger shifted his weight, eyes scanning Gilbert up and down warily.

"I'm not exactly 'locked in' the way you are."

Gilbert groaned. Vague answers were going to get him nowhere.

"But you don't know how to get us out, do you?"

Shoulders slumping even more, the young man averted his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. How did you even get in here, anyway? I thought I was by myself."

"You also thought you wouldn't get yourself locked in." Something very akin to a snort followed the statement.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes and stomped right up to the man, the thudding of his combat boots muffled by the dusty books around them.

"Listen to me, kid. We're stuck in here together, and I'm gonna break out if I want to break out, so don't. Fuck. With me. Got it?"

The man didn't even flinch, straightening his posture (he was actually a bit taller) and staring levelly back at Gilbert.

"Got it."

Still glaring at the man, whose eyes were a very strange (not that he had any room to talk) blue-purple color, Gilbert slowly leaned back, evaluating his new companion with some interest. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad. Cute, even. He walked back to the door and tried jiggling the handle again before looking around for something to pick the lock.

"So why're you in here?"

The question was just an awesome (read: awkward) attempt at conversation to fill the silence; Gilbert could stand silence about as well as he stood boredom, and both were far too close for comfort.

There was a thump behind him, and Gilbert turned to see the man hurriedly restacking a pile of books, a surprised look on his face. He looked strange, fuzzy around the edges, kinda like a camera before you tune the focus.

"Excuse me?

"It's a simple question, kid. Want an easier one? What's your name?"

"...Matthew Williams."

Matthew left the bookshelves and moved to perch on the counter next to him, and Gilbert grinned.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. Nice to meet me."

The blond rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile flitted across his face and Gilbert's grin grew.

"Well, Gilbert, I can assure you that that door isn't going to open to you or any hair clip you find."

Looking up from his position on the floor with one hand scrabbling under the desk, Gilbert frowned.

"Why shouldn't it?"

Matthew shrugged and twirled a pen between his fingers idly.

"The owner of the bookstore changed the locks just last month. The door won't open without both a key and a employee's card."

"High tech for a dump."

The pen twirling stopped, and Matthew looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I guess...It's just because the owner's, ah, boyfriend sometimes comes over while he's working and likes privacy for when they..."

Gilbert stared at him.

"You mean..."

He flushed slightly in embarrassment.

"Yeah..."

There was a short pause, then Gilbert burst out laughing, drumming his heels on the floor.

" _Oh mein Gott_ , they do that here? I didn't know Arthur fucking worked _here_! And Franny...oh, fuck, that's hilarious..."

Matthew pouted - yes, pouted, and that only made Gilbert laugh harder - and looked away, turning an even brighter red.

"It's not that funny! It's annoying! How do you even know Arthur and Francis, eh?" His eyes widened. "Oh, maple, have you walked in on them, too?"

Spluttering with laughter, Gilbert shook his head and leaped up to sit on the counter with him.

"Nah, I already knew Arthur worked at a bookstore, being the stick in the mud he is. Just didn't know which one. And Francis is one of my best friends, as well as the only person I know that would go molest his boyfriend at his workplace. It's not surprising at all." He smirked and turned to Matthew. "So you've- wait, so did you walk on in them and that's why they changed the locks?"

Matthew averted his eyes, shoulders slumping again.

"No."

Gilbert frowned.

"Don't talk so much, jeez. Okay, so how do you know those two?"

"I'm just in here a lot. You might call it my home away from home."

"Well, damn. That's kinda lonely, isn't it?" Gilbert leaned forward in an effort to glimpse the other man's face, but got distracted by a single wayward curl that stuck out in front of his face. It was just begging to be tugged...

"It is."

"Hey, wouldn't kill you to lighten up." The albino leaned over to give the man a friendly nudge, but he quickly found that it was impossible. His shoulder didn't make contact with anything, causing him to lose his balance. Matthew quickly caught him with one hand, shoving him upright.

"Sorry."

Normally, Gilbert would have brushed the incident off, but the strange and rather cold aura that Matthew had been emitting the entire time had put him on edge. "Whoa, whoa, what was that?!" He hopped off the counter and stared at Matthew, suddenly not sure if he had just imagined that lack of warmth or...anything. "Did you...did you move, or am I just crazy?"

Matthew grinned lopsidedly.

"You didn't imagine anything, though I can't tell yet if you're crazy or not."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Excuse you, I'm awesome. Now tell me what the fuck just happened. You were right there, and then you weren't, and now you are again."

Biting his lip, Matthew looked down at his lap, looked up, and dropped his gaze again. When he spoke, his voice was unwavering, but there was a definite nervous undertone.

"What would you say if I told you I was a ghost, eh?"

Silence.

For ten seconds.

"Well, _Gott_ , Mattie, at least look someone in the eye when you tell them you're a ghost. Make a good impression!"

Matthew looked up quickly, his expression a cross between elated and confused.

"Wha-"

"So what happened? Did you get murdered here or something? Oh shit, are you going to keep me here against my will and make me clean bookshelves? No, you don't seem like that kind of ghost. Three wishes? Do I at least get three wishes?"

"You...You're not freaking out that I'm a ghost?"

Gilbert hesitantly reached out to pat his back, making sure it was solid again, and then promptly thwacked it amiably, knocking the younger (how did ghost age work?) man forward.

"Why should I be? I'm not scared of ghosts, and you're a decent guy, dead or alive. Wonder why I haven't seen ghosts before, though."

Matthew recovered from the assault on his back and smiled.

"I'm not sure why you can see me at all. Most people couldn't."

" 'Couldn't?' "

"People, er, people didn't pay me much attention when I was alive, either."

The albino gave him a critical once over, making him flush, before pacing up and down in front of the counter determinedly.

"You've gotta _make_ them notice you!"

Matthew chuckled.

"You don't have much trouble with that, do you?"

Smirking proudly, Gilbert ran a hand through his snowy hair.

"It's natural for me, but I'm sure with practice, you, too, can learn the ways of the noticed. But enough about me - for now." He grabbed Matthew's hand, eliciting a surprised yelp from the other, and dragged him to the very back of the store, where the cookbooks were still sitting.

"Gilbert, what are you doing?!" Matthew asked incredulously, yanking his hand away and flushing.

"We," Gilbert started, punctuating his words with a poke to the taller man's chest, "are going to build a book fort. And you're going to entertain the awesome me and tell me about your ghosty self. Start talking."

So Matthew did.

The book fort was less than successful. All they could really make were columns that leaned right or left and eventually toppled over (one particular pile went right through Matthew and startled him) to make a mess. But with the entire night to kill, they tried and tried and tried and tried again until two solid walls of books about waist high boxed them in the corner. Matthew explained that he had died in a car accident a few years ago, and for some reason remained in the bookstore, where he had spent a great deal of his time outside the hockey rink. Gilbert explained that he lived with his brother, his brother's boyfriend, and three dogs who would make and bring you dinner if you ordered them to.

They talked long into the night, at one point degrading into a wrestling match (Matthew won, even if Gilbert swore he cheated with his "powers of ghostliness") over who had better taste in alcohol. Gilbert never seemed to lose his energy, and Matthew didn't need to sleep, even if it was habit, so they stayed up until the sun rose again, brightening the bookstore and exposing the dust and haphazard piles of books. Gilbert was lying with his legs thrown over Matthew's lap when they heard the key rattling in the lock and Toris' frustrated muttering. Matthew shoved the albino's legs off him and stood, posture wilting as he did so.

"You should go. Ludwig is probably wondering where you were all night."

"No, he's not. He's probably glad I didn't order sixteen boxes of pizza like I did last week," Gilbert laughed wryly, standing up as well.

There was an awkward silence between them, filled only by the background noise of the unaware Toris moving around behind the counter.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you," Matthew said quietly, eyes focused on some point behind Gilbert's head. He didn't sound terribly hopeful.

Gilbert opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and coughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. Well."

He turned abruptly on his heel and strode towards the counter, rapping on the counter and making poor Toris jump again.

"I-I...you..."

"You locked me in last night."

"Oh, my, I'm so-"

"Thanks."

Toris stared at him in bewilderment.

Peeking out from behind the bookshelf, Matthew grinned and waved to Gilbert, who waved back.

"It's a nice shop you've got here. I might have to grace it with my presence again sometime," he said, only half to the confused clerk.

With those parting words, Gilbert left the shop, walking quickly and mounting his motorcycle without a single glance back. It was only when he was a block from home that he remembered the Italian cooking book he never bought. _Scheiße,_ Luddy would kill him!

A slow grin spread over his face.

Another visit to the bookstore would be due tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reposted from FF.net.
> 
> in case there weren't enough ghost AUs with these two...
> 
> * Gilbert probably switches to German when he's...shh..scared. According to Google Translate, he says, "Fuck, what the hell was that? And why did you lock me in, you swine? Shit, this hurts!"


	2. And Aren't We Screwed At That?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dramatics vs. dorky boy dialogue, concerning staring contests and unprecedented feelings

"Can I touch you?"

Matthew stared at the hopeful albino, not sure if he should take the question seriously or not. "I don't know what you're used to, Gil, but I doubt that the custom of going on a date before getting physical has died out in just the past ten years."

Gilbert blinked. And then began cackling with that strange hissing sound of his. "Damn, that's not what I meant, but if you want a date and more that badly, you could've just asked!"

Matthew promptly turned bright red (it looked even brighter on his semi-transparent skin), ducking his head to hide his face behind a curtain of blond curls and fisting his hands in the hoodie sleeves. "Shut up! You know that's not what I meant!"

"But you took it that way!" Gilbert put one hand on his chest and sniffed, faking tears. "I'm so proud of you for making a sexual innuendo! My little Mattie's finally growing up!"

They were jammed into the far corner of the bookstore this time. "This time" meaning about the eighth time that month. Toris, while surprised to see Gilbert so often, let him in first thing in the morning (although Matthew had whispered that Arthur, upon hearing about it, had developed a rigorous routine of checking the shelves to make sure the mischievous albino didn't leave any unpleasant surprises for customers) and didn't ask any questions about the seemingly one-sided conversations he held. The clerk was often preoccupied with his cell phone anyway, and didn't care if loud laughter suddenly erupted from behind the bookshelves.

"What _did_ you mean, then, eh?" Matthew drew his legs up close and glared. "You can't just ask people if you can touch them!"

"Oh, so I should just go ahead and do it? If you insist."

Matthew's eyes widened, as did the smirk on Gilbert's face.

"No, no, no, that's not what I mea-"

After that Matthew could hardly form the words "help" and "stop" even if he tried, so out of breath was he from laughing uncontrollably. And Gilbert continued to tickle him mercilessly, even if it felt very strange and cold and every once in a while there was nothing there for his fingers to tickle.

The torture only ended once Gilbert's hands were up Matthew's shirt and Matthew's foot was pressed firmly against Gilbert's shoulder. Matthew's elbow had knocked against a stray pile of books, sending them toppling down.

Gilbert's hands stilled, and Matthew froze, his chest half covered with small books. They stared at each other for a moment, faces blank. Then Matthew hurriedly sat up and yanked all appendages away from Gilbert, rushing to restack the books and, most of all, will his heartbeat back to a normal rate.

"Gilbert."

There was a pause, but when Gilbert spoke, the self-satisfied grin was _audible_.

"Hmm~?"

"...From here on out you are restricted to a ten foot radius away from me, or I will use you as a test subject for ghost strength."

The threat did not deter Gilbert in the least. "Yeah, but can I touch you?"

Matthew snorted and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Let's apply what we know about a ten foot radius to this question, shall we?"

"Whoa there, Matt." Gilbert whistled. "Didn't know it was sassy Sunday."

"Why do you want to 'touch me' anyway?"

The albino shrugged, laying down on the floor and propping his feet up on the edge of a shelf. "I'm curious about you. Like why sometimes you're there and sometimes you're not."

"...And you think that touching me will help you understand ghosts and the afterlife and supernatural things?"

Gilbert shrugged again, a rakish grin playing on his lips as he stretched his arms behind his head. "Maybe, maybe not. I get to touch you at any rate."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Single minded, aren't you?" He sighed and ran a hand through his tangled curls. "I...I guess you can. No funny business, though."

Raising his eyebrows, Gilbert watched the blond carefully. "Seriously?"

Matthew nodded, biting his lip and holding his arm out. He shyly met Gilbert's gaze before looking away in embarrassment, rolling up his sleeve to expose a pale, lean arm.

Gilbert kept his eyes on his friend, slowly reaching out and gripping the thin hand. The blond's hand was cold, but not shocking to the touch; rather lukewarm, as if he could be warm if he just materialized fully. He lightly ran his fingers up and down each finger, tracing the long digits and pressing their palms together. Pursing his lips, he observed the size difference. Matthew's hands were slightly larger, with longer fingers, but more delicate. His own were wide, with scars crisscrossing the fingers.

Matthew was watching him now, eyes wide and cheeks hollow. His hand trembled slightly, but otherwise remained where it was, fingers substantial and _there_.

The moment was ruined when Gilbert opened his mouth.

"This is like the whole Jane and Tarzan thing, right?"

Matthew flushed and retracted his hand quickly before remembering their agreement and leaving it between them. "Fuck you, don't compare me to a woman!"

"I'm totally the hot monkey dude, though!"

"Raised by apes, you got that right." Matthew grinned and reached out to flick the albino's nose, making it wrinkle in annoyance.

"You need to learn to appreciate having the awesomeness that is me touch you, peasant. It is an honor and a privilege to have a Prussian grace you with his presence, not to mention hold your hand." Gilbert adopted a haughty expression. "Clearly you need to be thankful for what you have. I know I am."

Matthew rolled his eyes. Gilbert kept his ego as well fed as his pet canary, a fat little ball of fluff affectionately named Gilbird whose favorite place to be was on his namesake's head. The bird had joined them in the store once, only to be promptly shooed out by an allergy-prone Toris.

"I'm not going to swoon, if that's what you're after."

"Damn, and here I was thinking I'd get a lapful of cute Canadian." Gilbert winked roguishly, and Matthew couldn't help but redden.

"Shut up."

" _Nein_."

A staring contest followed. Matthew was rather good at them, having grown up with Alfred - also known as Master of Impromptu Contests of Any Nature. He narrowed his eyes and smirked. Gilbert, sensing possible defeat, leaned in suddenly and grasped the sides of Matthew's face.

"Gil!"

"Yes, Mattie~"

Matthew reddened further at the nickname and tried to pull back, but Gilbert tightened his grip slightly and forced their foreheads together. It was a strange sensation, the conflicting warmth and chill. Even their eyes - a bluish violet and a stunning red - made for an incredible contrast. Gilbert felt a shiver go through him, not entirely because of the temperature. Not liking the strange, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, he decided to break the silence if not his gaze.

"What do I feel like?"

Matthew spluttered for a moment. "Eh?"

"What." Gilbert loosened his grip slightly. "Do." Leaned forward just enough so their noses bumped. "I." Breathed out. "Feel like?"

There was a pause, a long one in which Gilbert suddenly regretted initiating such an intimate position and nearly pulled back, before Matthew finally lost his slightly dazed expression and spoke.

"You're warm. Tingling. Like I can feel again."

There was something undeniably warm in his eyes as well, and Gilbert found himself both elated and terrified in seeing it. He withdrew his hands and leaned back to balance on them, a smirk plastered on. The staring contest was forgotten.

"I am pretty hot, aren't I?"

Matthew, unmoving, held his gaze for a moment longer before slouching and dropping his eyes to his ratty sneakers. "Oh, yeah. Whatever you like." He didn't say much else, and it wasn't long before he suggested an excuse for Gilbert to leave.

Gilbert left the bookshop that day feeling as of something very new and fragile between him and Matthew had been brushed away like a cobweb. He couldn't name it, but he sure as hell knew what Francis would say about it, and cursed, kicking an empty milk carton before clambering onto his motorcycle.

Just his luck to go and develop feelings for a ghost boy trapped in a bookstore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert's totally the hot monkey dude.
> 
> also, have you guys seen that picture of Gil tickling Matthew by stripesandteeth via Tumblr? basically picture that, except with shirts.


	3. What's the Password?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more feelings and some guilt from Matt. being a ghost is hard.

The bookstore was their sanctuary. That special place sequestered from the rest of the world that wasn't complete without both of them there in it. It didn't matter if there was always someone at the front desk, and occasionally other customers who gave them strange, searching looks before leaving with their children's classics or autobiographies or teen romances - it was theirs.

Rather ironically at best, of course. Matthew couldn't leave, no matter what they tried.

("Gil, I swear to you on my own grave that I am not made of ectoplasm and will not fly through the window. No, I'm serio- Put me dow- Ow! Fuck, Gil, what the hell?! I'm going to be feeling bruises for a week!")

("No, this one will work! See, we can totally summon a ghost judge or St. Peter or someone who will release you from your...ghostly chains, and then we can ride off on my motorcycle together! You can stay in the basement with me and totally play pranks on my family! Roderich's the most fun, but I bet you could sneak up on Luddy and Feli and throw a bunch of condoms on them just to embar-"

"Gil."

"Awesome plan, right?"

"Shut up.")

("Okay, I did some research this time. If you just tell me where you're buried, I can dig up your bones and burn them, and that should detach your spirit...why are you looking at me like that?")

Matt still found himself surprised when Gilbert continued to show up at the bookstore's door, sometimes empty handed, sometimes loaded down with various methods of entertainment, but never without a large grin. He rarely arrived before noon, of course, and had ended up staying the night so many times that Arthur finally waited for his arrival one morning and interrogated him about "just what the hell he was doing to his sweet little bookshop?"

Gilbert had explained, with a straight face, that he was in the midst of a huge master thesis, and if Arthur could please order as many books with examples of objectified women in comic books, it would be extremely helpful, thanks. The more graphic the better.

Arthur had reddened and stomped behind the desk, ignoring Gilbert's insistant claims of the project being one hundred percent legitimate, and, "Mein Gott, Artie, are you really that anti-feminist? I expected better from you!"

Right, Arthur.

Matthew had known for years that Arthur Kirkland, owner of _Cover to Cover_ and the most British man he had ever had the chance to make the acquaintance of, could see him. The man could supposedly see mythological crestures as well, and occasionslly held conversations with them when he thought Matthew was preoccupied. The ghostly blond wasn't really in any position to judge, even if he had never seen any such creatures as Arthur described, dead or alive, but the Englishman never made any objections to his existance and therefore he refrained from commenting.

Arthur even stopped minding Gilbert after the first few months - "minding" meaning "attempting to throw him out with shouted complaints about the books strewn across his floor" Matthew was a tidy and polite person, and Francis a persuasive boyfriend, and Arthur eventually relented.

Despite all of these interruptions, Gilbert and Matthew's relationship bloomed. At first, they completely avoided the outside world and any topics related to it. This proved difficult quite quickly, especially when one day Gilbert stormed in, ignoring Toris' weak protest that the door hinges were getting worn, and began reorganizing the piles of books with startling vigor. The tight line of his lips, angry click of his jaw, and dark look in his red eyes made it obvious that he was pissed beyond belief.

That day, Matthew had learned a great deal about Gilbert's family and friends, and how Gilbert felt stuck between not being taken seriously and being ignored, or a combination of the two. This was explained in much more colorful language of course, once the stony silence was broken, but Matthew felt he had understood the gist.

A similar situation occured when, one rainy day, Gilbert came over to find the store locked and Matthew barely visible in the back corner, scrunched into a tiny ball and shaking uncontrollably.

After successfully kicking down the door and joining the blond on the floor, Gilbert was soon let in on some details of the Matthew's life and death and how he knew it was stupid, and childish, but it just wasn't _fair_.

(Matthew didn't tell him that a good part of this tirade was because he was very aware of their relationship and its limits. Gilbert would grow older, grow bored with him, and he would be left to perpetually wander the bookstore until it closed, or until Arthur passed it on to someone else, and it was just all too depressing to bring up - so instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and tried very hard to enjoy the time with Gilbert he had.)

Breaking the delicate wall between the bookstore and the outside world did quite a number on both men. Understanding where each was coming was certainly not necessary in understanding the person, but Matthew felt his heart ache a bit when he heard what Gilbert had done for his younger brother as a kid, and Gilbert felt more than a few butterflies at Matthew's sincere caring for others even when it went unnoticed.

It wasn't long after both experiences that The Incident happened.

They were debating some mundane thing, Matthew slouching against a bookshelf and Gilbert standing next to him, gesticulating wildly. Later, neither of them could remember what they had been talking about, because what occured next was just too distracting.

Gilbert got in Matthew's face, flicking his nose and babbling about something - Matthew had no idea what. He was a little preoccupied with how close Gilbert's eyes and Gilbert's lips were, and the idea of how they might feel on his own. He had promised himself, after several distracting experiences, he wouldn't think of his friend in that way, but when his friend was annoyingly attractive and annoyingly sweet (in his own way) and annoyingly only inches away...well, it was rather difficult.

The albino seemed to notice Matt's sudden flush and dazed expression, and instead of leaning back as expected, he narrowed his eyes and took a step forward to nearly stand on Matthew's toes.

Coming to his senses and turning an even darker shade of red, Matthew made to step back, but found he couldn't quite manage when Gilbert was looking at him like _that_.

There was a pause, a moment where they considered each other, eyes examining every feature.

Then, slowly, both leaned forward.

The kiss was rather short, with at least two nose bumps and Matthew's glasses pressing into Gilbert's cheek, but it left them both with a warm, tingling feeling that spread to their toes and quick, pounding hearbeats that brought a flush to their cheeks.

"So..." Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you want to do that aga-"

Matthew tugged him back in and answered his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angry feminist Gilbert is actually the best thing - what he says here is just to throw Arthur off guard.
> 
> sorry it's short...


	4. Not Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arguments are had, decisions made, and Gilbert really feels like shooting the messenger

The Incident was taboo, the Forbidden Forest, the large and extremely awkward elephant in the room. Both Matthew and Gilbert tried very hard to pretend it didn't happen.

(Rather difficult when Gilbert came home beaming delightedly and proceeded to roll around giggling with the dogs, but his brother reserved his judgement and patience for future need.)

Admitting it would mean admitting something had and was going to change, and the situation was just too complex for that. So they tiptoed around the matter, as well as each other's feelings.

(Even more difficult when Matthew was stewing moodily one day and ending up ranting to a distracted Arthur, and continued even after the British man practically handed him a pile of paper work and asked him to help check the childrens' books records. He was too distracted and polite to say no.)

And Gilbert became frustrated quickly. He wasn't used to having such substantial, romantic attachments in the first place, much less ones with so many complications. But dammit, he _wanted_ Matt! He wanted him sitting beside him, sides melding while meaningless and soul-searching words passed between them. He wanted him under him, above him, all encompassing and burning, tingling heat. He wanted fingertips filling the spaces between his and curls brushing against his cheek with all the sweetness the Canadian possessed. The feeling both scared and exhilierated him from tip to toe.

It was getting worse by the day. Antonio diagnosed him as a lost cause. Francis nearly sobbed and demanded to know every dirty detail.

Matthew, on the other hand, nearly felt sick to his stomach. How could he possibly subject Gilbert to any kind of relationship like that? It wasn't fair to him! And it wasn't fair to Matt. He wished he understood his situation more, whether he was in purgatory or had to head toward the light or if he was doomed to lurk in a musty book store for eternity. At least then he could make some sort of plan.

But nope. The afterlife sucked.

This opinion was only confirmed later when Gilbert had stared at him defiantly, about to return home for the evening, and after only a moment of hesitation swiftly leaned in to kiss him again.

Matthew recoiled, blushing furiously.

"Gil, you can't...you can't do that."

"Why not?" the albino groaned in irritation. He was sick of the awkwardness that grown up between them. "I liked kissing you and apparently you did, too, and I want to do it some more!"

"You know why it's impossible!" Matthew insisted, balling his fists in his sleeves.

"It's not impossible!"

"Yes, it is!" Matthew nearly shouted in frustration, his voice cracking. "I'm dead! You're alive! I'm not actually here, I can't even leave the store, and you'll be forced to move on! It's not worth it!"

Gilbert growled and shoved his way past the slouching blond and crossing his arms, the movements sharp and angry. "It's not just about the kiss, Mattie. I want you to be mine. I want us to be a thing!"

Matthew followed him. "A thing."

"Yeah, a thing. A thing, a couple, those really annoying people that you hate seeing because they're so damn cheesy. Why can't we do those things? We practically do them already!"

The Canadian stared at the ground unseeingly. "Because it will only end. It's not right for me to indulge in something like that, and for you to be tethered to this place because of some semi-solid person."

Gilbert lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing eye contact.

"Listen to me, and listen good," he hissed. "Three words."

Oh please oh please not those three.

"I. Don't. Care."

Matthew blinked.

"Maybe it won't last forever, but I'm damn sure that I'm going to make it last as long and as much as it can. And if that means dragging my ass over here every day and night to spend time with you, then I fucking will. Got that, Matthew Williams?"

Instead of looking like he was choking back tears, Matthew's face was twisted into a sort of amused grimace. He had thought this through over and over again, but his arguments seemed to have deserted him in the face of Gilbert's stubborness, and he couldn't deny that he desperately wanted a relationship with Gilbert, a real one. "How romantic."

Gilbert grinned. "Yeah, it's fucking romantic. Who do you think I am? I'm not going to abandon you just because you're stuck here, or because you're kind of insubstantial."

"And you can leave and take a break if you want to, you know." The Canadian smiled shyly, determined to make their book store as comfortable as possible (only partially to assuage the last remains of guilt in the back of his mind). "We could get a couch or something, brighten this place up. I'll get the hang of staying real."

"As long as you're here and can entertain me," Gilbert joked.

"Even if I didn't have to be," Matthew promised.

"So that's an 'Okay, Gil, get over here and make out with my face now,' right?" His words were confident, but his eyes betrayed his uncertainty and worry.

"I don't feel comfortable about it," Matt confessed, half smile falling. "But I can't exactly stop you, and I want to be...a thing, too. So, yeah. Yes."

Gilbert's grin stretched to manic proportions, and he took Matthew's blushing face between his hands and began trying to cover every inch of blushing skin with sloppy kisses.

The front door cut the enthusiastic display short as it hit Matthew's ankle and caused him to whack Gilbert's nose with his forehead.

"Oops," Arthur deadpanned. "Didn't see your PDA there."

Gilbert groaned loudly, holding his nose and muttering curses under his breath.

"Oh, uh, Arthur...Sorry, we were just-"

"Save it." The Englishman held up a hand and strode behind the counter. "I don't want to deal with any mortal-undead relations. Just don't get them all over my books. But Matthew, I want to speak with you for a moment."

Still holding his nose, Gilbert pouted.

"Sure," Matthew agreed, shooting the albino a warning but affectionate look.

Arthur ushered him behind the counter, shooing Gilbert to the other side of the room and lowering his voice. "Look, lad, I've been doing some research on...your kind. And I don't want to interfere with whomever you chose to have relationships with, but-"

"With all due respect, Arthur," Matthew interrupted, not wanting to go down this rather guilty road, "Gilbert says that he wants to go through with it and he realizes the drawbacks. I understand them, too, but...We're prepared to deal with them."

The bright green eyes flashed. "Don't interrupt me. It's no concern of mine what you two want to do with yourselves, but I did find out one thing that you should he informed of before you make any decisions." He sighed and ran a hand through his choppy hair. "You're fading, Matthew. You've been around for over ten years, and with residual memories fading away, you're losing ties to this world."

Matthew's breath caught.

"I don't know how long it will take, but..." Both pairs of eyes briefly flicked to Gilbert, who noticed the attention and made a lewd gesture. "Sometime soon, you're going to fade altogether, and you won't exist here anymore."

Matthew quickly turned back, leaning heavily on the counter, but nearly pitched forward after a mere second of solid contact. Staring at his hands, he noticed they were shaking. it was too late - he was already fading, and had been for some time. He was going to just fade away into dust, like his body lying under the gravestone.

And he would never see Gilbert again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, the title is not referencing the Buddy Holly song, thanks for asking
> 
> but Gilbert rolling around giggling is definitely a reference to HRE in the show


	5. Existentialism on Prom Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's guilt-ridden and can't do anything about it

Today would be the day, Matthew reasoned fiercely. Today he would tell Gilbert about his...degenerative condition (to say the least) and they would sit down together and make a strategic plan, something Gilbert dearly loved doing.

Gilbert had stayed the night, continuing the recent pattern of bringing his laptop and entire arsenal of illegally downloaded movies. As winter approached, the pile of blankets in the back corner had grown, forming an ample supply for a cozy nest, and Arthur often found the couple cuddling amidst them, exchanging amused smiles and gentle kisses.

The albino could hardly be seen beneath said blankets, face pressed into Matthew's stomach and arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Matthew ran a hand through the white hair, guilt tugging painfully on the back of his mind as his fingers tugged on the pale strands. He'd run through at least a dozen different scenarios in his head already, each worse than the last, and he found himself both trying to talk himself into and out of the conversation.

It's only fair, he reasoned resolutely, and crept determined fingers down to Gilbert's shoulder.

"Gil?"

A long, drawn out groan answered him.

"Gilbert."

"Gilbert's not here," the albino mumbled into the lean stomach of a pillow. "He's...saving damsels from dragons on Planet Drool..."

As cute as sleepy boyfriends were, Matthew could not afford to lose his nerve _again_ , and he shook Gilbert's shoulder harder.

"Gil, I really need to tell you something."

Whether all of the damsels had been saved or Gilbert simply registered the nervousness in his boyfriend's voice, he blearily raised his head and looked up at Matthew.

"Mm?"

"You might want to sit up for this."

Gilbert groaned again and reluctantly pushed himself up so he was sprawled across Matthew's chest instead of his stomach.

"What's got you worked up?"

Matthew took a deep breath.

"Remember last week when we were, um, kissing and Arthur walked in and talked to me?"

A nod.

"Remember how it was pretty important and I was a little a freaked out afterwards?"

Another nod. Once Arthur had left, Matthew had been a nervous wreck, pacing laps around the bookshelves and reaching out to touch random objects and eventually causing Gilbert to sit on his legs just to keep him still. Gilbert peered up at the blond man.

"Gonna tell me what was going on now?"

Matthew took his turn to nod, biting his lip.

"Arthur was looking into some...ghosty things for me, just to see if he could find anything, and he did. I don't really know the details, but he's cross referenced what he found, and a lot of paranormal kind of researchers agree."

Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Agree on what? Spit it out, Matt, you're making _me_ nervous!"

"That...that because I've been dead for a while now, and memories that tie me down are fading, I am, too. Fading. Disappearing."

Silence stretched for a moment, and Matthew grabbed one of Gilbert's pale hands to desperately play with their fingers, anything to keep himself occupied.

"So. So Arthur says that it might take another week, it might take a year, but it won't be long, and the process will probably speed up as it goes. I've been testing it, and some days I'm worse than others. Since there isn't really anything that can be done, there's not much point in knowing, but, I mean...I just figured-"

A single, lip-bruising kiss shut him up. Gilbert pulled back and grinned, looking his boyfriend straight in the eyes.

"I'm not pissed, chill out. Take a deep breath. Don't need to hyperventilate on top of the whole vanishing act."

Matthew smiled and nodded, relieved.

"Good boy." Gilbert reached up to ruffle the blond curls. "I have a question though. Is the disappearing contagious?"

He grunted as Matthew jerked and sent a knee into his stomach.

" _What?!"_

"Matt, Mattie, calm your tits, we were doing great on the calming down part!" Gilbert winced, rubbing his stomach.

"Sorry! I'm sorry! But do you mean you've been having weird times where you're nonexistent? Because that is serious business!"

"Uh...kind of, yeah," the albino admitted. "Like when I've been home alone for a few days while Luddy is fucking Feli in Italy. Not that I mind, by the way."

"Gilbert!"

"What?"

Matthew wiggled out from the blanket nest and began pacing again, dragging his fingertips over his face. "This is bad. This is really, really, bad. I'm rubbing off on you! How is that even possible? I..." He paused mid-rant, blanching.

Gilbert watched him warily.

"What is it?"

"I...I'm draining your life force." Matthew spluttered, staring at his hands in horror. "As I fade, my body is taking energy from the closest source...I'm dead and you're alive and I'm going to keep taking it until you're dead!"

Chuckling nervously, Gilbert stood, grabbing Matthew's arm to hold him in place.

"We don't know that for sure. Besides, isn't there some kind of rule that I can't be totally killed by life draining or shit?"

"This isn't Pokemon, Gil," Matthew sighed. "Look, until I talk to Arthur some more, you should probably go home. It's not like a virus - less exposure even at this point might help."

Gilbert scowled darkly and crossed his arms. "No way! I'm not going to miss out on quality Matt time just because we 'might' have the idea that we 'might' both be fading."

"Gilbert, please-"

"No!"

The Canadian sighed and sank back onto the blankets. He looked small and vulnerable, and Gilbert immediately crouched next to him.

"All right. One more night couldn't hurt," Matthew reasoned, and Gilbert eagerly dove into the blankets with him.

With so many blankets, Gilbert was quickly too hot for comfort, but he refused to let go of Matthew's waist, and the Canadian appreciated it (he reasoned that they might as well get as much out of the arrangement as possible) and returned the favor with interlocked fingers. The winter night passed slowly, the hours dragging by, but neither man could bring himself to care when it might be their last shared in the bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this title is, in fact, a reference to a song title by Straylight Run. it works well both lyrically and atmospherically


	6. Contamination Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little too much separation and loneliness and frustration

Matthew refused to let Gilbert back into the bookstore after that night. It was painful, yes, and lonelier than he would have thought after ten years of life-after-death. What hurt the most was when Gilbert would glare at him through the glass of the front door, shouting muffled words of protest at being locked out ( _guilt guilt guilt_ ). Gilbert even tried to walk through the door once, having discovered his elusive opacity weeks before. It didn't work, but mainly because the longer Matthew stayed on the other side, trying to shoo him away, the more solid he seemed to become.

When Arthur asked what was wrong (gruffly, but with more concern than Matthew thought he had earned from the bookstore owner), Matthew had stared pointedly at him, and the Englishman sighed and apologized. But it wasn't Arthur's fault. Matthew couldn't bring himself to shoot the messenger. It may have been killing him, but Matthew knew that if he was left responsible for Gilbert's death- er, disappearance, the remaining guilty years of his existence would be more of a hell than anything Dante described.

(And if he had cried into the pile of blankets in the back of the store several times because they smelled like Gilbert, what did it matter?)

Gilbert didn't give up. He came back the book store every day, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more pronounced each time.

Once he brought a whiteboard, and held it up against the front window to tell Matthew exactly what he would do if Matthew didn't open the door _right this goddamned minute_.

Matthew ignored him.

Two days later, Gilbert simply stood in front of the door and stared inside, eventually leaning back against it. Every few minutes he would sink into the door, beginning to fall backwards, but something always pushed him back up again.

Matthew ignored him.

A week later, paler than should have been possible, Gilbert tried to ambush Arthur and take his keys and employee card. The Englishman fought him off with surprising ease, though his work was made easier since Gilbert's fist went straight through his temple.

Matthew ignored him, crawled into the blanket pile, and forced himself to read until his head ached.

The worst part (besides the whole "ignoring your boyfriend in the futile hope he might not die before you do" bit) was the uncertainty. Was Matthew's refusal to be near ( _contaminate_ ) Gilbert even making a difference? If Gilbert's attempts to walk through the door were any sign, yes and no. Yes, Gilbert wasn't able to just walk through. But he seemed closer and closer to it each time, and that was what was worrying Matthew. What would happen if one day Gilbert got in?

Matthew couldn't help but cringe at the fuzzy remembrance of his brother's enthusiasm when describing zombie apocalypses and the drama that went with them. This situation seemed like a much less exciting parallel.

Pulling into the dingy parking lot to see Gilbert sitting with his head in his hands against the curb, Arthur had finally had enough. "Get up," he told the albino.

Gilbert followed the jingling of keys, staring mutely as Arthur unlocked the front door of _From Cover to Cover_ and held out an arm.

"Well? Aren't you going to go inside?"

Gilbert took a deep breath and walked inside.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he growled, slamming a hand against the bookshelf behind which Matthew was standing, trembling.

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?" Matthew snapped, prying Gilbert's hand off. "You're supposed to stay away from me!"

In the background, Arthur sighed and stepped back outside to give the couple some privacy.

"I don't know what you thought that was going to do, but it's not working!" Gilbert moved closer to the blond man, glaring up at him. "Don't tell me you couldn't see the difference. I looked like shit!"

"It was for your own good!"

"And you know what?"

Terribly afraid that a few more words would result in tears, Matthew clenched his teeth and dug his fingernails into his palms. They left crescent-shaped marks.

"I felt like shit, too! Do you even realize how fucking lonely the past few days have been? My family has hardly been able to recognize me! Feli was terrified when he could see me! Even my own _bruder_ looked right through me yesterday! I don't even know why I haven't disappeared off the face of the earth yet, unless it's because my fucking boyfriend still recognizes me. But you ignore me, too!"

Gilbert's voice cracked, and he turned away angrily, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Of all people, Matt, I thought you would understand and be there for me!" He wrapped his arms around himself, looking very small and not at all like the man whose presence used to take over a room the moment he stepped inside.

Matthew didn't remember actually telling his muscles to push and pull and take him over to Gilbert, but he suddenly found himself hugging the albino more tightly than he could remember. He babbled out apologies incoherently, probably crying but not really caring because all that mattered was being here with Gilbert now and not making the same mistake again (because even if he would never admit it, Matthew could tell that Gilbert had been as as frightened as he).

Neither of their bodies faded out of existence for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if some of the life-juice ideas don't make you think of really depressing zombie AUs, you're not reading the right stuff.


	7. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the thrilling, and yet, bittersweet conclusion...right?

"You know what's weird?"

Matthew glanced up at Gilbert, whose hair was sticking out in every direction. "What?"

The albino grinned and sneaked his fingers under Matthew's sweater, pinching the skin above his hip. "Well, do you want me to start at the top of the list alphabetically, or-"

He earned an impressive eyeroll.

"Okay, okay, I'll talk! Spare me your Canadian anger!" Gilbert lifted his hands in defeat, only to wrap them tighter around Matthew and nuzzle into his neck like a large, pale-haired cat. "I just meant this."

Matt raised his eyebrows with skeptical smile.

" 'This' being acting, and I quote, 'as gay as your fruit of a brother '?"

Gilbert frowned and adopted a lofty tone. "No, because I'm here, which makes us no less gay but at least less fruity, and (of course) more awesome. But that's not what I meant."

The blond murmured to show he was listening, eyes falling to half mast as he soaked up the warmth Gilbert emitted.

"I'm talking about how we act as each other's grounding rod."

Matthew blinked sleepily.

"Like...emotionally?"

"Uh..." Gilbert contemplated his own metaphor. "Well yeah, that, too. But physically! Ever since you let me back in this dump it's almost like I'm back to normal!"

Matthew blinked again, harder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. We're a lot more solid with each other."

At that, a smirk spread across Gilbert's face and threatened to split it in two. "Well...'solid' is one way of putting it..." He glanced downward meaningfully.

"Oh, calm down, it's not even true right now," Matthew snapped, frowning slightly, too distracted to blush (Gilbert pouted at that; embarrassing his cute boyfriend was half the fun!). Something about Gilbert's words were niggling him.

After he had let Gilbert back into the book store (a decision he was incredibly relieved he had made), they had been inseparable, philosophically reasoning that if distancing Gilbert from Matthew hadn't made a change for the better, they might as well stay together. But instead of fading further, Gilbert seemed to be healthier than ever, almost entirely substantial again. Even Matthew himself felt rejuvenated, as if having the albino around had sent a fresh rush of warm energy through his cold veins.

But why? What had happened to Gilbert's life force?

"Earth to Mattie! Hello? I _will_ tickle you, you know I will!" Gilbert waved a hand, positive that if this was one of Matt's normal spacey episodes, a really hot kiss would probably be the best antidote. Yeah.

Matthew gasped, all traces of sleepiness wiped from his face. "Gil, what if we're...oh, no, that's stupid..." He slouched. Surely such an idea was too ridiculous to consider.

"What's stupid? Tell me!"

"Well...Between the two of us, we have the value of one life - you - with two spirits and bodies - you and me - right? It's kind of like that concept about humans automatically distributing themselves."

Gilbert patted the blond's cheek. "I've got no fucking idea what you're talking about, Matt."

Matthew chewed the inside of the his cheek, trying to decide how to assemble his thoughts in a coherent and logical fashion that Gilbert would understand (if they were coherent and logical enough in the first place, that is).

"I read it somewhere. In a grocery store, no one has to tell people to move to the shortest line, it's just automatically understood that the shorter the line, the less time they'll spend standing around. So they move to the shortest line. And because of that, the lines always even out naturally."

"Uh, okay?" Gilbert shifted in the beanbag chair to press a kiss to his boyfriend's neck. Then lick it. Then move slightly farther down, just under the collar of his shirt, on to the slightly paler skin...

"No, no, wait, I know what I'm trying to say!" After a few vain attempts, Matthew managed to push Gilbert far enough away that he wouldn't be distracted. "The grocery shoppers are like the life force! I mean, your life! Because there's two souls, it's distributed itself between the two of them! So between us, we're both half alive and half, uh..."

Smiling softly, Gilbert squeezed his hand. "It's fine. That means we're human-ghost hybrids, right? Sounds pretty damn cool to me."

Matthew wasn't fooled. The past months had sent cracks worming through Gilbert's confident barriers before breaking them down, and he knew exactly how to read the slight wrinkle between Gilbert's eyebrows, the nervous fidgeting in his fingers, and the tense lines of his shoulders. Gilbert was probably making all the connections between what he knew Matthew had been experiencing the for the past years and himself: being stuck in the book store, not being seen (though of course he had already experienced that for himself, to a degree), and semi-tangibility. As much as Matthew knew Gilbert cared for him, it was not a fate he would wish for.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, sticking his nose into the fluffy white hair next to him. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Don't apologize," Gilbert retorted, scowling. "Especially for something you can't control. That's stupid and doesn't accomplish anything anyway." His face softened and tilted his head to give Matthew a gentle kiss. "Look, we don't even know if all that's true. My life force is probably totally badass and will keep us both around for a few centuries. Halloween'll be a riot!"

Matthew smiled. His boyfriend might be callous, a bit vulgar, and not the best at reading certain atmospheres, but he was a real softy underneath his thick, egotistical skin.

"Shall we try it out?"

* * *

They decided to wait until morning to test Matthew's theory, using the time to sift the idea through their minds.

The first order of business was to see what kind of difference, if any, Arthur could detect in Gilbert. They waited until opening time to ambush the British man, who had (for some unfathomable reason) decided to bring his own boyfriend along.

On second thought, maybe Francis just came because he did whatever the hell he wanted. Especially if it annoyed Arthur.

"Well, I suppose it's nice to see the two of you being unbearable together again," Arthur told them, crossing his arms but allowing a hint of a smile to cross his face. Truth be told, he was fond of Matthew, and the boy had seemed so much brighter with Gilbert around (for reasons he could not understand but was reluctantly tolerant of).

"You can bet your ass on it - oh, wait, you can't, it's Franny's to bet!" Gilbert crowed, snickering at his own joke.

Arthur shot him a pained look. "Shut it, Beil _shit_ , and remember whose shop you're practically living in."

The door squeaked, and Francis stepped in, humming under his breath. Arthur and the couple grew quiet, waiting for the Frenchman's reaction to the scene.

"You really should dust this place more often. I swear, I develop a new strain of allergy just walking in here." He leaned against the counter, smiling lazily as his gaze trailed over the shop without a single hesitation. "Why so quiet, Arthur, dear?"

With a barely audible sigh, Matthew's shoulders slumped. Arthur's lips tightened, and Gilbert's eyes widened. The albino stepped toward his old friend.

"Franny? Francis? Come on, man, we've known each other since middle school!"

Francis blinked. "Arthur? Did you say something?"

Unable to believe this reaction, Gilbert leaned heavily against Matthew, running a hand through his hair. To their left, Arthur shook his head sadly.

"No, it's nothi-"

"Oh! Gilbert! I didn't see you there!" Francis' face suddenly broke into a large smirk, and he stroked his beard with one hand (Arthur had been telling him for years that he looked ridiculous, but he thought it was charming), leaning toward a shocked Matthew. "And who is your, ah, friend?"

"Holy shit! Francis, you _can_ see me?!"

Gilbert leaped forward and embraced the Frenchman tightly, who coughed in surprise and hesitantly hugged his friend back.

"Yes? Well, not at first, I'll admit, which is a first, but..."

"Matt! He can see me! He can see both of us!"

Matthew nodded wildly, his huge grin nearly rivaling Gilbert's in size.

For his part, Francis looked confused, and rightly so.

"Is there a rumor going around that my eyesight is not intact? Because I can assure you, my eyes are just as young and bright as ever."

Gilbert cackled and clapped him on the back, eliciting a second cough. "Nope, never mind! It's just good to 'see' you, ha! And this is my boyfriend, Mattie, and if you touch him I'll fucking shank your ass, got it?"

"You think too lowly of me," Francis replied, winking at Matthew. "The pleasure is all mine, my dear."

"Ahem." Arthur coughed. His small smile had disappeared in place of an annoying look for Francis, though his eyes were still dancing. "Now that that's settled..."

"Right!" Gilbert grabbed Matthew's arm. "The second test!"

The couple raced toward the front door (behind them, Francis looped an arm around Arthur's waist and whispered that he wasn't sure the pair of them were entirely sane). Matthew closed his eyes, hardly daring to breathe.

And they were through.

"Fuck yeah!" Gilbert dragged his boyfriend in circles, whooping and hollering and making the most ridiculous noises ever, but Matthew couldn't bring himself to care. He was out! For the first time in ten years, he was outside again, under the sky without any wood and plaster in between. It was an overcast day, and a bit chilly, but even the slight breeze that ruffled his curls felt exhilarating.

"Oh! Yeah! Take some of this!" Turning back towards the book store's large front window, Gilbert began making exaggerated thrusting motions while mimicking club music through his teeth.

Matthew couldn't bring himself to go inside - no, not for the next twenty-four hours _at least_.

But he should at least thank Arthur. The man had knowingly let him stay under his roof for a decade without complaint, and even offered advice when he could. It was as much as Matthew could have asked for, and he was going to say thank you as if his life depended on it (more or less).

He walked back to the store front where the other two men were standing, each breath of wind sending a thrilling electric shock through his nerves.

"Thank you, Arthur."

The British man smiled and nodded. "Anytime."

Francis, however, seemed confused. "What on earth...Where did they go? It's like they vanished into thin air!"

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Francis?" Matthew tried, the refreshing breeze now feeling like ice against his skin. He waved. "I'm right here. And Gilbert is still-"

"I must have spaced out for a moment when they left," Francis reasoned, blinking in momentary confusion. "They were sweet, weren't they, Arthur? The way Gilbert seemed so attached to that cute Matthew...Ah, the power of love!"

Arthur gaped at his lover. "But...they..."

Matthew tuned them out, turning to face Gilbert, who had stopped dancing.

"I guess...when we left the book store's threshold..." Matthew trailed off, staring at the ground. They had been so close. It was like leaping from one edge of a cliff to another, with your feet reaching the edge, only to find the ground crumbling beneath your feet, and you lose your balance and tumble backwards. What was he supposed to do now?

"Hey. Hey, you, blondie." Gilbert stepped close and flicked his nose gently, forcing their gazes to meet. His expression echoed his serious tone. "It's a drawback, I'll admit, but this is no time for retreat. You're out! You're free!"

Matthew nodded, but his face didn't fool the albino.

"I know this is one of those times where every bad thing seems to outweigh a good one by a million pounds, and it seems like you haven't gotten anywhere. But there's good news: That good stuff did happen! And it'll happen some more! And don't forget, I'm your own personal leech now. No more loneliness, got it?"

Gilbert smiled reassuringly, and Matthew forced himself to take hold of the words and squeeze them into his pocket for future reference, because Gilbert was right. He was out, and he had Gilbert, and he had Arthur, and he had eternity to figure out his existence between the cracks of life and death.

He could do this.

"There's the Canadian I know!" Gilbert grinned, looping their arms together and giving Matthew an affectionate noogie. "Let's go find ourselves a niche in this place."

Matthew grinned back, nodded, and they started off.

 

When Arthur and Francis left the book store late that evening, with clothes and hair significantly more rumpled than before, Francis noticed two pairs of footprints in the dust leading away from the store. Together.

"Arthur? Did Gilbert and his boyfriend leave this way?"

Arthur glanced at the footprints and smiled mysteriously.

"It would seem so. But I have a feeling they'll be back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is a reference to my favorite band, Muse, and a song that just really fits the entire story


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert leaves a letter for his brother.

The possibilities were endless. Gilbert couldn't wait to try renting an apartment or eating at a restaurant. Matthew was reasonably sure they would have to do everything by phone or email now.

But before any ideas could be explored, Gilbert had one thing he wanted to do.

"You want to visit your brother?" Matthew stared at his boyfriend for a moment, trying to understand. Okay, so Gilbert wanted to see his family again. Whether to pull a prank or to get one last look at his brother, Matthew wasn't sure. Maybe both. But if Ludwig hadn't been able to see Gilbert on the last pass...

Matthew just couldn't bear for Gilbert to be disappointed.

They took a bus (Matthew insisted on dropping in some change) to the square, neat little house on the corner. The yard was well maintained, the driveway clear, and solar panels perched on one section of the roof.

"Welcome to _die Beilschmidt Haus,"_ Gilbert grinned, with fewer teeth than usual. He spread his arms wide, striding up to the front door like he didn't have a care in the world, and to most observers (if they could see him), he didn't.

But Matthew saw the slight tremble in his bony hands, and nervous shuffle in his feet.

The doorbell proved unnecessary. As Matthew reached the porch and tugged on Gilbert's hand, it swung open to reveal a tall, muscular blond man with similar features to Gilbert, but more square and serious, without the mischievous glint in the eyes. He was accompanied by a petite man who clung to his arm like a lifeline, chattering happily.

Ludwig and Feliciano walked right through the pair on the porch, stopping only to lock the door.

Gilbert nearly froze in place. The only movement he showed was that of craning his neck slightly to watch his brother walk towards his car. Matthew squeezed his hand.

Then, suddenly, Ludwig hesitated.

"What is it, Ludwig?" Feliciano glanced back at the house. "Did you forget something?"

Ludwig shook his head slowly, uncertainty written all over his face.

"No, it's just...I felt strange coming out of the house just now. Did you notice?"

Bewildered, Feliciano shrugged, his eyes widening. "Is something wrong? Do you feel sick? Oh, no, Ludwig, you can't be sick! We can go out to dinner later, see, I'll take good care of you and make you lots of nice, warm past-"

"No, no, I'm fine," Ludwig interrupted, with a strange mixture of exasperation and fondness. "It's probably nothing."

They climbed into the car. Matthew and Gilbert moved closer silently, listening.

"Oh! I know what's bothering you!" Feliciano exclaimed, tugging on the car door.

A muffled reply from Ludwig.

"You're still worried about Gilbert, aren't you?"

Matthew felt Gilbert stiffen again immediately. He squeezed the pale hand tighter.

"Yes," Ludwig said quietly, gripping the steering wheel. "I...It's kind of ridiculous, I know. He can take care of himself, even if he can be incredibly reckless at times. But recently, it just seems like he's been...far away. And now, I feel like..."

Feliciano's breath hitched, and the German glanced at him before quickly changing his tone.

"Never mind, Feli. I just hope he'll come back from whatever escapade he's gone on this time soon."

"Me, too!" Feliciano agreed eagerly, finally shutting his door.

The car backed out of the driveway and sped off quietly.

The hand Matthew was holding shuddered, and he looked up to see Gilbert rubbing his eyes. His breathing was uneven, and Matthew could see him swallow several times. Without hesitation, he pulled Gilbert into a hug, which was instantly returned with as much strength as the albino could muster. When Gilbert was upset like this, his pride often wouldn't let him let go and break down the walls before beginning the process of reconstruction. Matthew, perfectly aware of his boyfriend's tendencies, supported and comforted him while letting him keep the pride. It was the least he could do.

After a few moments, Gilbert pulled back, his eyes red but dry.

"Let's go inside," he said quietly, voice only slightly unsteady. Matthew laced their fingers back together. "I want to do something before we leave."

* * *

Ludwig:

You probably don't want to read this with Feli, because while he has somehow managed to combine cute and awesome into a single ball of Italian, he's a crybaby and won't want to hear what I have to say.

 ~~ _I'm sorry_~~ ~~_I_ _know_~~ that I'm sorry I left without telling you.

Normally I'm not sorry about that kind of shit. I do that all the time, ~~like when~~ but usually I plan on coming back to my little _bruder_ to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble. It doesn't look like that's happening this time.

Don't worry about me, I didn't get kidnapped by mobsters or thrown in prison or something like that. And don't call Francis or Antonio, because they don't know anything, trust me. ~~A~~ ~~ctually, maybe you should tell them~~ ~~I'll tell them~~ This is for you only. And I'm not going to kill myself either, if that's what you're thinking. Really, Luddy? If that even crossed your mind, go to your fucking room and think about what you've done.

You're just not going to be seeing me around anymore.

And, for good measure that a worrywart like you needs, I've got someone looking after me. He's really good at the kind of thing. You'd like him.

Gilbert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks!


End file.
